Maverick (Hell's Handlers MC 2)

Mav laughed. “Been there, man. Totally normal.”

The Handlers’ initiation ritual for new patches was brutal. Not only did they get their arm branded, but it happened with the entire club watching, and the brother had to take it standing up, without screaming, without puking, and without passing out. No easy feat. More than one man had made it through the prospecting period only to cry like a baby during branding and be booted from the club.

As they walked away from the raging bonfire and into the clubhouse, the prospect tending bar, Little Jack, caught sight of them. He’d started prospecting about two months after Screw and they were close. “Congrats, man!” Little Jack tossed Screw his shirt and poured him his favorite scotch.

“Thanks. Can’t fucking wait until you gotta go through this shit.” Screw slid his left arm through the shirt sleeve, careful not to brush the charred skin of his forearm. In the morning, he could treat it, but part of the fun—for the rest of the MC—was making the new member walk around with it open all night. The pain would fade fast as he drank and fucked.

“You got any of the Honeys in mind for tonight?” Little Jack asked. Contrary to his name, he was a big fucker and Zach’s prospect. Hard worker, loyal, gonna make a great brother soon, like Screw.

“Like to work my way through all of ’em at some point,” Screw said on a laugh. “You know, gotta find my favorite.” Prospects weren’t allowed to dipp in the well of club whores. It was something the Honeys got quite a kick out of. They loved nothing more than taunting the poor assholes with teasing touches, dirty whispers, and future promises. Poor guys complained about having PBBs, or prospect blue balls. Screw had more than a few women to punish for that tonight.

Little Jack handed Mav his favorite whiskey, but his eyes kept flicking to some woman Mav didn’t recognize. She was across the bar, chatting with Shell. She was a looker, all right, tall with long, sleek, amber hair, perfect posture, and clothing that screamed professional, not biker.

“Who the fuck’s that?” LJ asked.

Screw snorted. “Someone way the fuck out of your league, dickhead.”

“Gotta agree with my new brother, LJ. That’s some expensive pussy over there. Maybe a tourist who was looking to slum it during her mountain getaway,” Mav said.

“You gonna go after her, LJ?” Screw asked on a laugh as he polished off his scotch and held out the glass for another.

“Fuck, yeah,” LJ said.

“Good fucking luck.”

This was gonna be good. “You know what?” Mav asked. “I’ll give you five minutes to pick that classy pussy up. You go get her. I’ll watch the bar for you.” Prospects couldn’t have any of the Honeys, but visitors and woman partying for the night were fair game.

The cocky grin left LJ’s face, and he frowned. “Really? You think I should. I mean, I can, but should I?”

Screw was doubled over with laughter. “Don’t get cold feet now. You talked a big fucking game. Come on, I wanna see you banging that one in a dark corner tonight.”

Shit. Mav would love to fuck Stephanie at this party. Find somewhere just out of sight where they could be caught at any moment. He fucking loved the thought of nerves and lust battling it out inside her. And when she finally caved and let him do whatever the fuck he wanted to her within earshot of his brothers…fuck yeah, that was happening tonight.

“Yeah, all right,” LJ said. “Just give me a second.” He stretched his arms and bounced on the balls of his feet like he was preparing to enter the ring, not pick up a classy broad.

“The fuck you doing?” Screw asked.

“Just getting ready. Shut the fuck up.”

Mav sipped his drink and laughed. Never once had he regretted his decision to join this brotherhood. Just as LJ walked from behind the bar, Jumper, a member in his late forties who’d been around since he was twenty ,sidled on up to the woman LJ had his sights set on. She smiled at him and, within seconds, was in his arms, dancing to hard rock blaring from the speakers.

“What the fuck?” LJ said, sounding shocked.

Screw choked on his drink. “Looks like you’re flying solo tonight, man.”

Mav grinned at him. “You know what they say, brother—he who hesitates masturbates. Have fun with your hand tonight. I’m sure Jumper will let you know all about her classy pussy tomorrow.”

Grumbling under his breath, LJ stomped back behind the bar. This time, he poured himself a double, slamming both the glass and bottle as he worked. Screw was laughing so hard Mav thought he’d fall right off the barstool, but then he blinked and sobered in an instant.

“Incoming,” he whispered. “I’m outta here. Good luck, brother.”